Batgirl Begins
by TechnocrontheVigilante
Summary: After three months of playing Batgirl out on the streets, and keeping her identity from her father, threats arise that beckons Barbara to step up her game as the first female of the Batfamily. But how long is she willing to last before she has a chance to prove herself to Batman? Link to next chapter: /s/10879973/1/Oracle-Begins
1. Origin

Batgirl Begins

Chapter One

If I hadn't spent all night trying to play Batman, I wouldn't be late for my first day of College. But it's the thrill that keeps me going through the night, and I've been able to get away with it during the summer. I remember the shock I felt when I first woke up this morning, seeing the numbers on my alarm clock glaring at me. I shot out of bed while I was still in my Batgirl costume I had sown myself. Yellow on the side of my stomach, a yellow Batsymbol on my chest with yellow spikes protruding from the edges of the symbol, yellow banded knuckles, a black cape with a yellow front, a yellow utility belt with smoke pellets, a grapnel gun I'm still getting used to, and custom-made Batarangs. They're not as good as the real thing, but it's something to start out with. And to match, a black cowl with Bat ears and an opening for my straight, dark hair to flow freely. I bought a black wig and took care of it like it was my hair, to throw off suspicion in case someone that I knew closely were to catch me and find out about my red hair. I felt needles in my arm when I tried to get out of bed, and I look in my mirror to see that my suit is cut on my right shoulder.

A blade man grazed me, but it would've been much worse. I had reverse-engineered a police scanner I saw online, and with the money from my job as a newspaper editor, I was able to buy and make the parts I needed. And of course, keeping it a secret from my father. He would never approve of any of this. Especially after last night's incident with the gang meeting at the pier with people reporting that they heard gunshots. After last night, I'd have been grounded until the day I was old enough to live out the rest of my life in a mental hospital; like that'll change anything. I have a life outside being an editor for Gotham Press, and I can't let anyone else know either. Batman wears a mask for a reason. To protect his identity. To protect the people he cares about. Regardless of what the police say when they find the Crime Scenes he always leaves. People said he was a myth, but now that he's being plastered throughout media everywhere, it's hard to deny it now. Everyone knows the Batman. But only the people that have met him know the real Batman. The one that breaks bones and scares them straight. I've been a vigilante long enough to know what he's like. Give or take, three months. He does his thing, and I do mine. But I've always wanted to meet him. Nevertheless, the stories don't scare me, so much as they fuel my thrill.

I go to Martial Arts classes every other night and also do some Yoga. If I want to be like the Batman, I have to start somewhere. Or Batgirl, to be exact. Haven't exactly found any places to help me make better technology while I'm out at night, and another reason for my novice tech is because I don't want to have to tell them what I'm going to be doing with it. That didn't bother me when I was out looking for police scanners. Well, I didn't bother saying anything then. I always expected someone to ask why; fortunately, they never did. I wanted to find a way to incorporate some form of metal into my costume, but quite haven't found a solution to accomplish that feat yet. But when I do, it'll take more than a knife to stop me or give me shooting pains for the next day or two. If I didn't know to treat those bruises, it'd be way worse.

The first night I was Batgirl, it was the greatest feeling in the world. Swinging around the city with my Grapnel Gun, throwing my Batarangs, fighting criminals in a museum, leaving before the police arrived. I remember how I was perched on one of the Gargoyles that were part of a building, laughing at how easy and how fun it all was. Months passed and I've had to step up my game. I was in danger of bleeding out after a gun fight with two gang groups at the Gotham Pioneers Bridge. I had to hide behind a car and wrapped my utility belt over my left thigh, my right forearm was a different story. I had to play it smarter and, since I had already taken out some mobsters, I decided to improvise and throw Batarangs at people still firing their guns, lodging my Batarangs in the barrels of their guns, and then I struck as best as I could. It was a massacre. I'll never forget that night. The next day, I paid a visit for the doctor and he told me I should be resting for a few weeks, but that didn't stop me. Needless to say, when I couldn't do much of anything, I did rest. And when I felt I was mobile enough, I went back into the game. Whenever I hit a dead end in Vigilantism or in life, I would hit the Gotham Fitness Center and let off some steam with my trainer that's always there, or against a punching bag. My life has blossomed into something I've never expected. And every time I'm out at night, I feel the world doesn't exist and it's just me, fighting crime like my favorite hero.

As I continue to examine the wound in my shoulder in the mirror, I know I won't have time to care for the wound since I'm already an hour late on the first day of college. To say the least, I do it anyway and will try to makeup for lost time tomorrow. When I finish aiding my wound, I try and get dressed for school, regardless of the time. I only have five classes and it's the middle of the third one. My dad gets home from work and I'm still in my Batgirl costume. I hear him coming upstairs and I quickly lock the door and get dressed as fast as I can. And of course, try to hide my shoulder wound. Last thing I want is having to explain what happened. Before I have time to put my shirt on, my dad wiggles the door knob. He always checks on me to make sure I made it to school or to check on me if anything's wrong with me. A locked door is saying something. He shouts through the door. "Barbara? Barbara? Are you there?"

I put the shirt on and unlock the door, opening it with just my underwear and a black buttoned-up shirt, hiding behind the door. "I overslept."

James's face looks puzzled, and asks me. "Two and a half hours?"

"Yeah."

He sighs disapprovingly. "How long did you stay up last night?"

I answer confusingly. "I forgot. My mind's still a little foggy."

He takes off his glasses and rubs his face with his hand, sighing again. "Okay, just don't do this again. It's your first day of college."

I shake my head in agreement and close the door. I think in frustration. _It could be worse. _I can't keep doing this much longer. Sooner or later he's going to find out why I do this. I look at the bust on my dresser that holds my wig and my resolve begins to return a little by the second. Remembering the memories. I unclench my fists and slowly slide down the doorframe, trying to recover from making so many lies to someone I love. To catch my breath. And with Batgirl, it's easier. But it'll only be a matter of time before I breakdown

Lately still, Batgirl's been my escape. Nothing is on the police band right now, so I keep looking at that bust. When I think I can stand again, I go to my computer and check on what I missed today at school on the website. I open the files and copy down the notes. After I finish the first notes from my first class, I get a notification in my inbox. I open it and see my teacher sent me a message saying, "This is your first warning. You will have two more warnings before you are dropped from the class. This action is irreversible."

I plop my head down on my arms rested on my desk, letting out a sigh. This is one of the last things I need. I let my head up again and see another notification. I ignore it since I know it'll be the same thing. I go down and eat lunch, because the notes are long, I want something to eat and drink while I do.

My stomach is screaming and my throat is dry. After lunch, I feel so much better and do the rest of the classes' notes. And all the while, my police band is silent except for some chatter from the police, talking about the game last night. Afterwards, I go to the Gotham Press and see Vicki Vale on the television screen in the living room, reporting about something at Crime Alley. The screen turns its attention to a dark alley behind the Monarch Theater where the Wayne Family were gunned down. There is a chalk image of a little boy on a wall standing over the bodies of the Waynes. This is…this is wrong. This is very wrong. My father, sitting in a recliner, turns the channel and sees a reflection on the screen, but I leave before he notices.

Could this be a sign of things to come? Why would someone do this? This is a message to Bruce Wayne, no doubt. I don't think he's taking this very well. And the chalk image was a little boy. How could someone be so cruel? I try and clear the thought from my mind and then it hits me. I'll probably have to edit a paper on this. But I don't, which is a good thing. And a reprieve. I get in the elevator and my friend, Allan, greets me and gets in the elevator with me. He playfully hits my shoulder, my wounded shoulder, and I wince. My concoction has almost settled in, but he may have just made it worse. He informs me. "Still up for the dinner date tonight?"

"I might be." I respond in a pained tone, rubbing my shoulder. Allan asks curiously. "What's with your shoulder?"

I makeup an excuse. "I bumped into a thug last night and he tried to mug me."

"Oh."

I put my arm down and use it to hold my purse again while I needed a free hand to rub my bruise. I ask Allan. "Where's the date going to be at?"

"Gotham Square Diner. And why'd you think you can't be there?"

I close my eyes and tell myself, _You do what you do to protect others, no matter how many excuses you have to make. _But I open my eyes, look at him and just say. "I might be busy with schoolwork."

He looks at me and frowns, retorting. "Why do you always have to make an excuse?"

"Because I can't predict the futu-"

Before I can finish, he exits the elevator and goes off to his booth, and the door closes in front of me. I grit my teeth and slam the side of my fist against the elevator, thinking of how much I want to tell Allan about my identity. How I'll never know whether or not he'll keep the promise of keeping it a secret, and have it spread like a wildfire. And by now, with all the rejections, he's more than likely to look for someone else. While I wait for my floor, I take the time to try and steel myself for the rest of the day. As I reach my floor and go to my booth, I go to my computer and turn it on to start editing whatever it is I'm supposed to edit today. The topic is Armored Car Robbery. I look through the article and don't see that many errors aside from the "no name", most likely he or she was in a hurry. A woman in a dark green sweater and jeans steps by my booth, answering my question. "Sorry Barbara, I was in a rush and forgot to title my newspaper. The name's Carol Tarbrough."

I move the hair out of my right eye and smile back, "It's all right."

And with that, she's gone. I go through the day thinking, _What's going to happen when I can't be Batgirl? _I usually answer this question like this. _I'll live a normal life where I don't have to worry about identities, a world where there are no excuses. And a world where people are dying with only the Batman and his sidekick, Robin, fighting against the corruption of Gotham City. What if, instead, you're the only one who can help them?_ And I am. At least, right now. What about twenty years from now? Will I even be alive then? Will they even be alive then? Well, there's only one way to find out. And plus, twenty years from now, my cloth won't be enough against criminals, and I'll have to step up my game even more. Lately, I've needed an upgrade, but Batgirl is my escape and I forget about being better than the criminals. I need to find a way to meet with Batman. That Bat-Signal could be the Most Effective Way. But then I'd have to use it myself. I see where it is every night anyways, but turning it on is a different story. Not to mention telling my father about it. I'll have to be sneaky, suited-up of course. Unfortunately, Batman may notice me when my father wouldn't. Batman doesn't earn the title of Prowler for nothing. So I've heard from crooks. But it's worth a shot.

That night, I camp out on the roof of the GCPD Building at a time I know will be suitable enough. Ten-fifteen PM. That's the time it always seems to turn on. Every now and then, I'd look in the sky just to see the signal when I was first starting out. When I first saw it, it was like a beam of light in the darkness. I make an effort to arrive at least five minutes early, and no one seems to be there yet. There's not a lot of hiding places on the roof, except for a doorway to the roof and the Bat Signal. It doesn't leave me with a lot of options, so I try and stay out of sight near the door. If I camp out near the Bat Signal, considering where Batman may glide in to action, he may notice me. I have to ask him before he leaves, though. Not when he arrives or else I'll have to deal with explaining myself to him before my father has a chance to tell him what he needs to do himself. Either way, I'm going to have to explain myself. But then I'll also have to speak to Robin, someone less threatening in my opinion. And then there's the matter of me keeping Batman from keeping our city safe because of my stalling him. What I presume is that he'll have Robin take me to their HQ, but I doubt it. Not a complete stranger.

I reach in my utility belt and get two Batarangs, sliding them against each other to sharpen them, thinking about my plan. What if this is all pointless? What if he'll just say no? If I bring up the fact that I'm risking my life to help do the job he does, it may work. It's worth a shot.

Minutes pass and my father comes rushing through the door and I keep as quiet as I can, watching him turn on the Bat Signal and wait for Batman to arrive. My father looks fidgety. Something big is up. At least ten minutes pass and I see him for the first time. The Batman. He's like a giant walking shadow with black armor plating, but it isn't reflective. And then there's Robin, of course. He's less of a shadow. Red armor plating with a black Robin in flight on his chest as an emblem with a black cape. My father tells them about how there's a mass murder going on at Crime Alley. Batman answers back in the darkest tone I've ever heard, a tone I didn't even think was real. "Crime Alley?"

My dad scratches his head and replies nervously. "Yeah, the place where the Waynes were murdered. The same place where that chalk image was drawn."

Robin reassures in a teenaged-voice, but doesn't make much of an effort to shield his voice. His isn't as dark. "We'll get on it."

"Wait." There's a hint of intense anger in his voice, but he keeps it in check. Somehow.

"This seems like a mission for me. Head back to base in the Batwing, I'll go to Crime Alley on foot."

Robin, or so called Boy Wonder as I've heard and read in the papers, isn't available for this mission so I'd rather ask him instead. My dad exits the roof through the door and is spitting out orders to the GCPD to get to Crime Alley as I hide behind the roof door so he doesn't see me hiding beside it. Robin takes off in the Batwing and, when my dad's off the roof, I reach in my utility belt and throw a homing beacon on the jet. With that done, I make my way to the alley. And of course, I came prepared with making an addition to my left glove. The addition being a communicator that I had duplicated and miniaturized to both keep up with the police and use my tracker when I'm done here. If this keeps up, I'll make my own advanced suit. If I had taken up the courses of being an Innovator, this would be easier. But I took up Data Entry and Data Mining.

Once I get closer to the alley, I hear gunshots, lots of them, accompanied by screams of terror and voluptuous laughter. Batman is already on the scene, I suppose. I follow the sound of the laughter, and hid behind a wall when I hear the laughter is getting closer, and closer still. It reverberates off the corruption of this city like an alarm, waking it up, showing what exactly it's created, and realizing what a monster it is. But I'm not afraid. No matter how demented laughing at someone's death may be.

I clench my fist tightly, crushing today's problems and ready to hit the next one head-on. And when that bleach faced psychopath shows his face at the first second of revealing himself, I slam my fist into his face, probably breaking his nose. I get a better look at him and see he's wearing a purple trench coat, white clown gloves, and green scraggly hair to match. On top of that, a pointy nose and an extension of his smile painted in red, with scars on the smile. He rests his hand on his nose, one not holding the gun, and looks up at me with those light yellow eyes and opens his mouth, laughing, showing his seemingly cavity-laden teeth. He keeps laughing, and the sound reverberates off of my body, trying to shake me with fear. But I refuse to give into the fear. I see that asking why he's doing this may be pointless. As would be the answer to anyone else reacting to a somewhat broken nose in this manner. He takes the hand off of his nose and remarks. "Well, at least hit harder next time! I like the sound of broken bones."

A knife pops out of his left sleeve like it's an addition to his jacket, and he starts swinging at me at speeds I've never seen any blade man go. He grazes my shoulder I was hit last night and it makes the pain even worse, also cutting through my stitches. This knife isn't like any other knife I've known either. It's sharper and deadlier. And even after one swipe, he's still swinging. He's not stopping and making quirky remarks like the others. And the worst part is, is that he's still laughing. Every second that passes, it's like it gets worse. He stabs me in the abdomen and I place my hand on my stomach, trying to staunch the blood flow. I risk being cut again and I grab his knife arm, bringing my elbow as hard as I can on his wrist, and to ensure he doesn't use that hand again; at least for a while, I twist it. I had learned this method in Martial Arts class two weeks ago. And I follow this tactic with blows to the face, the last one knocking him back.

The man laughs at his broken wrist and kicks me hard enough in the stomach to exasperate my injury, knocking me down. This guy's no joke. He leans down to pick up his knife, putting his gun in his jacket pocket and putting the knife back into his pocket, taking out his gun to which he points at my head. He readies the gun and jokingly replies. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. And we were just getting started."

A humongous grin appears on his face, showing all of his teeth, and is seconds away from pulling the trigger pressed against my head until Batman sneaks up behind him and grabs his gun arm, bending it backwards at an angle that you'd think wouldn't make him laugh, but it does. The unidentified man head butts him and elbows him in the cheek bone. I never thought I'd see Batman in action like this, but he doesn't look happy. His suit is a little cut; and plus, I don't see any definite markings on his suit like there are on my suit. He must be equipped for the modern knives, and not these. On the bright side, it won't be that much of an issue until the knife swaps end up making marks on his chin.

I try to stand and help him, but the clown almost shoots my sternum as I manage to dodge it, dealing with the pain. Batman smashes the clown's face into a window, shattering it and slamming the face into another. The clown steps on Batman's foot repeatedly and a crowbar slides out of his other sleeve, using the wrist that I didn't break after all.

Either he's really strong, or he know how to deal with the pain. He swings it at Batman's rib cage and uses the sharp end to hack away at the Dark Knight's chest. I lean against a wall, trying to regain my resolve and force myself to help the Batman, even if I know he can handle this. And at this point, I'm going to assume he's never going to stop laughing. I get a Batarang out of my belt and jab it into one of the clown's shoulders, followed by a whack in the face with the crowbar, repeatedly. I collapse to the ground, clasping my bleeding face. I've never been in so much pain before. Inside I'm screaming bloody murder, and outside there's no use to trying to keep the pain inside, so I just scream. I know I shouldn't, but I peek through the openings of my hands to see the following events. Batman puts the clown in a headlock, cutting off his oxygen and a laughter trying to creep in, and then something strange happens. He gasps for air and stops laughing. Batman kicks the back of one of the clown's legs, bringing him to his knees and releasing the headlock only to elbow the back of the clown's neck, grabbing his hair and slamming the back of his head into the pavement. The clown doesn't give up and sprays the clown flower on his jacket, spraying Batman's chest and melting some of the armor plating so he can shoot him there. Batman, I can tell, can feel that one. But it's not that much of a bother to him since he keeps going, even after being kicked in the knee. The clown manages to get back on his feet and, like a zombie, trudges his way towards Batman, laughing. I can't let this man get away with doing this.

The world I knew is replaced by hysteria of insanity and a sensation of fear creeping in. I gather up what strength I have and, even if I'm about to die, I'll die helping the man that made me the person I am today. But in this moment, I think to myself everything I've been through, and how's it dwarfed right now. How they also forged me into an unstoppable force.

Never being able to fit in. How I was always seen as the "geek." I was gossiped on. Pranked on. Cheated on. Never made it into the police force as a detective because I was too "small." How I scared away people with my intelligence. How I've seen people die in my line of work. How I've come close to dying at least twenty times. Never being able to tell my friends about the feats I accomplished as Batgirl. How I'm helping to keep this city safe. How I'm looked at as, "one of the lowlifes that aren't cleansing the corruption." Regardless, almost half of the GCPD is corrupt anyways, which always led me to believe my father had been keeping some secrets, but I've been caught up in my own world. How my tears always seemed to be my own, and rarely had someone with me. They seem minor now; they were a big deal then. Explains also why Batgirl was my escape, but now, Barbara Gordon is my escape. I guess this day would've come eventually.

My face is dripping blood to the point where I'm afraid I might slip and fall on it. I grit my teeth, clench my fists, try to build up my strength and, when the clown turns around after being so intent on killing Batman, he looks at me and shows the scars on his face from Batman's blades on his gauntlets. He won't. Stop. Laughing… He swings at me with the rusty crowbar and I let out a yell every time I make a rapid strike. I jab his throat, hoping to end his laughing fit. I grab the crowbar when he tries to hit me with it again,, trying to keep from him hitting me with it and I knee his stomach repeatedly. He still keeps laughing and I still keep fighting him. But when I elbow him in the arm, he uses the knife in the other hand to cut open my suit like my dad chopping a loaf of bread, from my waist to my sternum as blood spews outwards.

The next thing I know I wake up in a cave on a metal bed with a mirror adjusted above me, and I see I'm in a cast that spans to my waist to my sternum, and a bandage over my shoulder and face where something hit me. My mind is a little foggy and I can't exactly remember what happened. Then I hear the screeching sounds of…Bats. I hear a beeping sound and look to my left, seeing that my vital sings are okay. At least something is, because I'm still not feeling well. My dad must be worried sick, literality. There's one thing I know right now, even with my concussion, it's only going to get worse from here, and my days of just "making it" as a makeshift vigilante are over. And I'm going to be up against threats I can't take on alone.


	2. Aftermath

Chapter Two

I decide to rest some more and I'm not how sure long I was out, but I wake up to Robin, in costume, sitting next to the bed with his arms on the table, head rested on them. He's been sleeping. I see his green mask is laid down beside him on the table. I feel nervous and satisfied that he stayed here this whole time. Least he didn't watch me sleep, but now I am. I whisper to him to try and wake him up, and with my luck, he's out cold. Apparently, I've been asleep for longer than I thought. I bump him with my elbow and he groans, going back into his world of sleep. I bump him again and he slowly lifts his head up, showing his sleepy eyes. He takes a second to get back to his senses and recognizes me. He responds in a droopy voice, not completely awake yet. "He-Hey Ba-Batgi-Batgirl."

I try to smile and don't feel as much pain like I did the first time I woke up. I answer back in a weak voice but try not to let it show. "Hey to you."

He slowly lifts up one of the bandages on my face and looks at me for approval. I shake my head yes and he gently takes it off, removing the others. He winces and I'm guessing he's surprised at the marks on my face. "Rough night, huh?"

I respond in a clueless tone. "I don't...remember much of it really."

"Must've been a hell of a concussion."

He removes another bandage and he looks at a screen near my vital signs showing my body in skeleton form. He tells me that I can sit up now. I do, with a sluggish pace, with Robin steadying me. I look at him and wonder how someone like him can work for the Batman. Well, that I remember. If I remember that, then I guess I've been in this cave longer than I expected to be. Also, I remember Robin. I assert him curiously. "How long have I been in this cave?"

"About three weeks."

My stomach drops. I look at him with mystery. He finishes. "Batman had started a campaign to find someone with your blood type for a blood transplant and that took some time. I put you in the cast and bandages when Batman tried to do some research on the Joker, that clown that attacked you. Unfortunately, he didn't find anything. You're still in bad shape, but not as bad shape as you would've been if you'd been left to die on that night the Joker attacked."

My memory feels like it's meshing back together, kind of. I deliver a question to him, frowning. "How many people died that night?"

"Thirty."

I clasp my face with my hands and Robin puts his arm around me, softly patting my shoulder. The one that was cut. I give in and lean in closer to him. He answers back in between my sobbing. "It's all right."

I can't do this anymore. If this Joker is running around and killing people with a smile on his face, what's next out there for me? No. I have to be strong about this. Maybe everyone else won't be as bad. But right now, I'm weak. I question Robin. "How can you work for Batman? You're nothing like Batman."

"Because he practically raised me."

I look up at him, puzzled. He answers back, sitting on the bed. "Me, my mother, and my father were acrobats at a circus here."

He struggles to communicate anything else, but blurts it out quietly. "But Bruce was there when the accident happened. My parents did a dismount off a platform and tried to catch each other. You know, like a trick. They missed and they ended up falling to their death. Bruce came to me after the show and tried to comfort me and I let him take me home."

As I process this, I realize. Bruce. Bruce Wayne. Batman. The chalk image is him as a kid, looking over his parents. Robin is an acrobat orphan raised by Batman. This is all so tragic and cruel. Robin continues. "I was a kid then, so I didn't think much about a stranger taking me home without my parents telling me otherwise. After a while, I began to trust him. I was terrified when I first discovered he was the Dark Knight."

"How'd you deal with the pain?"

"Batman told me how. I can teach you how to deal with yours. I just need to know what I need to help you with."

I take a deep breath and ask a question first. "How's my dad?"

He takes a deep breath and answers back nervously. "Really want to know?"

I close my eyes tightly and try to build up the strength to announce it, and I do. "Yes."

"Here goes…"

He takes a deep breath again and lets it out. "Well, we had to risk your identity to tell him. We've been keeping him up-to-date on your condition, but I wouldn't expect him to be so happy when you return."

I frown at the floor and try to catch my breath before I start sobbing again. I don't know how to process this notion that my dad will forever hate me now. "But he'll be happy you're still alive."

"Where's Batman?" I comment.

"Not sure."

Robin takes something from his side of the bed and hands it to me. My Batgirl wig. And without thinking, I land a kiss on his cheek. He smiles. And immediately after that, Batman emerges from the shadows of a nearby cave in costume. But I'm not going to tell him I know who he is, judging by the look on his face. I bet he's upset I went up against the Joker. And with one look to Robin, he disperses from the bed and steps away from it. Then he turns his attention to me. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"

When the voice is directed to someone else, it's awe-inspiring. But when it's directed at me like this, it's freighting. I guess it's for a reason. I answer nervously. "Lucky enough?" I shrug my shoulders.

"Lucky enough that we found a blood donor for over sixty percent of your blood. You should've stayed out of my way."

I stand up in anger and walk closer to him, almost shouting but keeping it quiet. "I was trying to help you."

"I took him down, and the last thing I need is someone else dying on my watch. Especially with the Joker running around now."

Hs voice calm but dark. I strike back. "It doesn't matter. I saw how he melted your armor plating with his clown flower. What were the chances he'd have melted your suit? What then? I was there to help you!"

I start yelling. "That's what I've been doing for the past three months!"

His voice gets a little louder. "And how many times did you feel lucky enough to make it out alive on your own?"

He wants me to think, but I can't right now. The hero I've wanted to be all this time is giving me an enraged lecture on how to do my job. "Things are only going to get worse from here, so I need you to stay away from these criminals, and do your own thing."

I switch my voice to a mocking tone. "Want me to put on some training wheels while I'm at it?"

He glares at me. "No. Live out your life and forget any of this ever happened. Forget what you know about being a vigilante, because you don't have the skills nor do you have the technology to do what has to be done."

"Anyone has the ability to kill someone. Did you kill the Joker?"

"I don't kill."

"Then why bother telling ME how to do MY job when you can't DO YOURS!?"

I yell loud enough to make an echo and I swing at him, but he catches it. He was expecting it. The fact that he was is sickening. "I don't kill, because I'm not a heartless, murdering psychopath."

He's gotta be referring to the Joker. There must have been more attacks when I was sleeping in this cave. I don't care. I try to yank my fist out of his; though, if it weren't for his iron grip, I could. Batman continues. "You may see me as a shadow that breaks people's bones and strikes from the darkness, but you need to understand that I intend to inspire justice. I am not a murderer, nor will I ever be a murderer. I am a hero. And I will be until the day I die."

He releases my hand and I'm frozen in place as I watch him go to the computer to do research I guess. I'm having trouble breathing. My blood pressure is rising. My anger boils. I turn to Robin who is walking my way when Batman tells him to take me home, I retort that I can take care of myself and I see Robin swallow hard. I don't care. Batman doesn't respect that I risked my life to protect him, and how I lost over sixty percent of my blood to do it. But if he found something in me, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of finding a blood donor. I guess that makes me feel a little better; though, to say the least, I'm still mad at him. Next thing I know I feel a syringe in the back of my neck and I wake up in my bedroom at my house. This time, with a pleased Commissioner James Gordon, sitting next to the bed in a chair that goes with my computer. "First off, let me say I'm glad you're alive."

I try to smile for the heck of it. And then his face turns grim. "Secondly, why did you keep this life a secret?"

I frown and I respond back, weakly. "Because you'd never accept me for who I've become when you found out."

His expression stays the same as his voice shifts a little. "You're right. I wouldn't. But it's time you found out that you can't do this anymore."

I remember my conversation with Batman, how it angered me. I try to keep my yell down because it's Batman I'm mad at. But still, I'm angry. "I was only doing what I thought was right!"

"Barbara…"

He leans in closer. "Did you do this because you had been turned down to be a detective?"

"That, and-"

"And to live out the fantasy of being Batman every night." He takes off his glasses and glares at me. "The last thing I need is seeing my daughter die. Ever since your mother died, I knew I had to keep you safe. But I guess I've been scared to try and do what I had to do: Keep you as close as possible, and not let anything bad happen to you."

He holds my hand. "I want you to remember how much I love you. I want to see this city safe again, but I can't risk you going out every night and risking your life to do it. That's why we have the Batman. He can do the things other people can't. So please, for Sarah, promise me you won't kill yourself out there."

As much as I want to make the promise, I can't. I start crying because it hurts. I start crying because I remember how Sarah died in a hit-and-run. Instead, I answer back, keeping my resolve. "I have a mission, too. As much as I want to make that promise, I can't. As much as I miss Sarah, I can't. Everything I do from now on will be in honor of her memory, but this is the life I've chosen. I can't let anymore people die."

I suck up my pain and continue in a stronger voice, or try to suck it up. "I'm here for a reason."

My dad leaves the room since he can't take anymore, I guess, and closes the door on the way out. One day he'll understand why I'm doing this. Speaking of why, I need to find out more about the Joker using a program I made on my computer. So I get situated and start it up. I type in a question that appears in digital letters on a text box at the bottom left of my screen: _Who is the Joker?_

An error pops up saying does not match current criteria search results. I go through all six of them and nothing comes up, even after typing in everything I can think of, everything I thought would give me answers. But instead, I get a furious and confused attitude and get so pissed at my computer that after, what seemed two hours of pointless searching, I grab the computer by the sides, rip the plug-in out and throw the computer off my desk, breaking it and rendering it inoperable in its now irreversible condition. There can't be anything on him. I have to get an older model, a better computer. I go to the shop and, on the way there, I see Allan on the curb. Still the same person I last knew. Then I remember I've been dropped from all my college classes, which is the least of my worries right now. Allan makes his towards me and I refuse to talk to him in my state. Allan questions. "Barbara? Is that you? Weren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I don't feel like talking right now." I answer back.

"Just talk to me. What's wrong?"

I repeat what I said and he keeps trying, and I finally give up, looking at him dead in the eyes and keeping my voice low but still fierce. "Listen, Allan. I don't want to talk right now. Got it?"

I walk away and continue on my path to the computer store, ignoring everything Allan has said, and is saying now. I want to get the message through. I get to the store and, when I get inside, five men are in what seems to be black thug outfits with a fire emblem on their chest, pulling out their guns and shooting up the place. One of them shouting. "EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND! NOW!"

One-by-one, the thugs repeat what the other just said and I get down to participate. I look at one of the thugs in the eye and he hits me in the temple with the bad end of this gun. He shoots the floor beside my head as a warning shot and kicks me in the ribs, shouting. "No direct-eye contact!"

I see someone about to hit one of the thugs with their first and the thug shoots him five times. This is a situation I need to think myself out of. Can't look at them in the eye. They'll shoot on sight. And I'm not bulletproof. And it's almost night, so Batman's nowhere near here yet. I'm on my own on this one. And I can't kill them. I have to use the environment to my advantage. Something I haven't learned yet in Martial Arts.

They're just here for the technology, and not the money. Which is strange, from what I've seen. They're putting the top-grade computers into the back of their van. After observation, I see that three thugs stay in the store and two carry the computer. So I use the gap to my advantage and slide in-between the stands holding gift cards and memory cards and key chains.

When the two thugs leave, I grab one of the memory cards and slide it across the floor to draw attention to something else. One thug comes my way and knocks over the stand where I trip him, at which point, I knee-rise his stomach as he falls downwards. I kick him to one of the thugs to knock him down and duck whatever bullets the other guy shoots seconds after immobilizing the two crooks, for now. I lunge towards him and tornado kick him as he takes steps back to regain his balance. He tries to hit me with the gun and I swipe it away from him. The two thugs are back up and I go head-to-head with them, immobilizing their gun arms and knock them down for good measure. They won't be getting up from that anytime soon. The other guy behind me hits the back of my shoulder and I elbow his cheek, hearing something definitely breaking and, as expected, the two thugs outside are shooting up the place again as I hide behind the criminal I'm currently fighting, wrap my legs around his neck and flip him so he's down for the count. I have to move fast to dispose the rest and I do, after taking a bullet in the left calf.

After all that, they'll all be dealing with head trauma, broken bones, immobilized arms, and possibly need hospitalization for about a couple of weeks. During the fighting, I saw a computer I needed and I go get it, setting it on the counter and reaching my purse to grab the money for it. Everyone looks at me with shock and one girl starts clapping, which starts a chain reaction, congratulating me on saving the store. The guys at the counter say that I can take the computer for free, a bigger smile appears on my face. A woman, a shopper, thanks me and gives me a gift card. As I turn, I hear someone crying, I see one woman is mourning the death of her lover. I make my way to her and give her the card and a hug.

I can't stay here any longer as it is since I still need to find out more about the Joker. I refuse to think Batman can't find anything on him. It may take years. Even if it did, would it still work then? But I need to find out. I realize I would've risked my identity there; unfortunately, there was a robbery in progress, so I had to do what I had to do. I make it back home and I plug-in my computer, install all my antivirus and anti-theft programs, along with that SEARCH Program I needed to find the Joker. I try everything again and it still doesn't work. Instead of smashing this computer, I take some time to try and at least deal with the fact that I'll never find him. So instead, I look for other things. First of all, the chalk image at the alley. I use whatever surveillance cameras were around and try to use any possible angle necessary. I get a glimpse of a man in black clothing like the one I saw in the computer store. Still wearing a mask. He's drawing the chalk image of a kid. Why would they do that? I keep watching and after he's done, he leaves with a stride. First the chalk image, and now computers. Are they planning on blackmailing Bruce Wayne? Why do they have a fire emblem on their sweater? I can't go any further into this and call Bruce Wayne using my SEARCH.

It's nine o' clock now, so he can't be playing Batman at this hour. He usually waits until it gets darker. I wait and then he answers in a different tone than Batman. A more civilized approach. "Who is this?"

"It's Barbara Gordon. I can't find anything on the Joker but I found out that the person who drew the chalk image is in relation to the people stealing computers earlier tonight."

"How did you know who I am?"

I can't risk telling about Robin, so I react in the simplest way I know.

"I was able to find out about your phone number."

He pauses and then remarks. "Very funny. And computer robbery?"

"Hasn't hit the news yet."

Bruce takes time to say something else. "Why are you helping me?"

I strike back in a careful tone. "You think that just because I'm not a part of your little group that I can't help you? After all, I'm staying out of your way. And as a reminder, I died three weeks ago and I just came back from the dead after being cut up like salami so it'd help if you cut me some slack."

He sounds offended by this; yet, refuses to yell. "I did what I did to remind you to not do the same thing again."

"So, other words, you actually care?"

He doesn't answer, but he does return the favor. "Have a nice night, Ms. Gordon."

He hangs up. And the next thing I know, hours have passed after trying to find out more about those people with the flame sweaters. I searched for whatever else they've done and I've been unaware off as of late. So far, I've found that they've been stealing guns and ammo. Next, knives and more computers, more chalk images ranging from babies to little children to men and women at certain parts of the city wherever crimes have been committed. No one knows who they really are or who they're working for.

Before I decide to search for more information, my screen goes dark for no reason. Seconds pass and sparks appear on my screen like there's fire going on. It's them. The sparks grow in numbers until they form a flame with a black figure walking through the fire, closer to the screen. I want to look away, and because of my curiosity, I can't. Subtitles appear on the screen with a demented voice narrating. "Play with fire, and you'll get burned. This message goes out to whoever foiled our plans to steal the latest technology at a local hardware store"

The figure gets larger as it gets closer. "Whoever you are, you've made a dangerous enemy. This isn't child's play. You will get burned. We will find you and we will kill you."

The figure materializes as a man, 6 '1', in a light brown armor with a technologically-advanced helmet with white glowing eyes. He must be masking his voice with his suit.

"If you think you can escape this, then you're simply afraid. Sooner or later, when you least expect it, I will strike. I can be anyone,"

He points at the screen, finishing. "Watch your back."

The man bursts into flames, wiping away the others and turning my screen black again, returning my screen back to normal. The news will be buzzing about this, I bet. It couldn't have been just my computer. Bruce probably knows. And I'm not really happy about this. I'm terrified. I try and go through my mind anyone who could've done this, and no matter how I look at it, nothing comes up. A possibility comes through my mind: I'm going to die and I'll never know why. Which is why I have to stay on 24/7 Watch and keep completely focused. Bruce calls me. "Did you get that?"

I answer in a horrified tone. "I did."

And the last thing I need right now is the Joker coming on the police band. Joker on the police band?! I keep listening. "Hell-Ooooo Gotham City Stuplice Force!"

I roll my eyes. "Joker Here! So listen, this unfortunate cop was too busy eating his donuts to notice what exactly was going on when I snuffed him from a Donut Shop and hid him in one of the tents at your local Carnival! So, if anyone's brave enough to find out where he is and save him, go ahead and try."

His fun and enthused demeanor switches to that of a complete madman in a deeper tone. "Or else this police officer gets a donut where it shouldn't be."

Laughter booms over the comms and I hang up my phone to go to my closet and find my newly-sown suit in the time I had in my wake after dying the first time with the same design. As I put the suit back on, I think to myself that I need to be smarter this time around. This time around, there's more at stake than you know.


	3. Carnival Nightmare

I make my way to the Carnival as fast as I can and most likely Batman won't approve of this, right now I don't care. I need to save the officer and stop the Joker. When I get there, I see the Carnival Grounds are empty. Aside from the bodies stripped down to the underwear that are laid conveniently beside every tent. Fifteen every tent… There are at least hundreds of these bodies with wounds ranging from stab wounds to gun shots. He's definitely here.

As I look around more, and keep my supper up, I peek in the tents and see just presents inside each of them. I go inside the tents and slowly, gently lift open the lids to peek in and see what may be in there. All I find are dead bodies and sometimes nothing. Time passes and I hear someone laughing. I get out a Batarang and slowly move towards the sound, ignoring the instinct to run towards it. I tightly grip the Batarang and, then I realize something, it's not the Joker laughing. But someone else. Officer, maybe? No, I don't allow myself to accept it. I get closer to the sound and get inside the tent it's coming from, only to find a tape recorder positioned next to a speaker on a table. I walk closer to it, Batarang still in hand with an irreversible iron grip, and then I trigger something. It causes the setup to explode, knocking me back and tearing up part of my costume. I take a moment to regain my senses and I hear gunshots accompanied by sadistic laughter. He's here.

My Batarang was blown out of my hand in the blast and I look around for it, desperately. I get up and ignore the burns I've been dealt, walk to my Batarang and grip it again in my hand, running towards the sound. But it stops. Next thing I know, blunt force to the back of the head with something metal. A gun. I strike back and punch his stomach as hard as I can in my state and tornado kick him. And, as expected, he laughs at the pain. Never ceasing. Always reverberating off what is my sanity, tempting to drive me insane. He punches me in the right cheek, where one of my burn marks are, and before he can do anymore damage, Batman leaps behind him and knocks him down, throwing him inside a tent. He uses the gap to his advantage as he demands to me in a very stern voice. "These people around the tents aren't dead! The blood is makeup and they'll most likely regain consciousness in minutes time. In the meantime, I'll fight off the Joker and you disarm the bombs."

He tosses me a earcomm. "Use that and tell me when reached a bomb. Afterwards, I'll walk you through the process of disarming the bombs and tell you where they are."

I know these things as of right now. The officer was a ploy and Joker set this up so he could lure me and Batman, and Batman probably has no choice but to trust me on this mission. But somehow, I still don't expect him to fully trust me. And that he's obviously done his research. And he's obviously encountered him enough times to know something always happens and always checks the area Joker appears for anything suspicious. And every time the Joker's announced where he shows up, which is my guess. He wants to be captured.

So, he gets locked up and put away in Arkham Asylum and breaks out days later. I know Batman doesn't kill, but he's letting Joker get away with how many deaths? And the best he can do is what? Put him in a body cast? This system is flawed. But if I killed people, too, I'd be another madman. It occurs to me that the Joker's not just a mindless psychopath, no. An intellectual psychopath with an overly-cunning mind that can outsmart the average citizen. Severely-demented ploys with a calculating mind. He's even more dangerous than I had previously imagined. He's possibly worse than that man trying to kill me. He maybe.

Batman and Joker duke it out especially since I know what I know now about him. The Dark Knight wasn't wrong about him telling me that I shouldn't fight him until I know what I'm up against. It feels like he meant something else with that. _Even if you do know what you're up against, do not engage. _He cares, in his own way. Just that his way involves enforcing it so strictly. And that he wouldn't risk his pretend-son, Robin, to go into battle because of the circumstances.

Batman goes into the tent to fight the Joker and in the time it takes to tap the earcomm and turn it on, which is what I assumed to be the way to activate it, the people around the tents wake up and they start laughing. Everywhere. Everyone. I contact Batman. "These people, they're laughing now. What'd I do?"

"There's a bomb at each of the booths. Ignore the civilians for now."

"Got it."

For the sake of it, I get the Batarang out and cut one of the civilian's shoulders and get in deep for a blood sample for later if I survive this, putting it in it's own patch and jump on that same civilian's head to get out of everyone's way. After a while I notice something else. I hear the laughing has stopped exponentially. I turn around and see the civilians are dead. They laughed themselves to death…

The Joker's unable to laugh himself to death apparently. Whatever answer it is must be in the Batarang. I reach a bomb and people keep dropping down, and as things get worse, there are still some people laughing. Once one round finishes, the next continues. I contact Batman when I reach a bomb and tell him about the situation I've discovered pertaining to the laughing citizens.

"I know, and the Joker's not saying anything useful."

"Did you _need_ to ask?"

He grunts but answers back. "Open the hatch and get out a Batarang."

I do what he says and I get out a Batarang, updating him and he replies. "Good. Now tell me what you see."

"Green, purple, red, and white wires."

How convenient. It's his signature color. Trench coat. Gloves. Hair. Smile. I hear an explosion over the comm and I connect the two. I back away from the bomb and just make it out of the blast radius, luckily. I look around and the mouths of the citizens spewing out green gas. I take off my cape and wrap it around my mouth as fast and as firmly as I can. I contact Batman, yelling, overtly distressed. "Take off your cape and wrap it around your mouth! The civilians are spewing gas."

I hear that demented laughter I recognize amid the chaos. Batman retorts back in a robotic voice. "No need. I've activated my Safety Mask."

One thing after another. Why is this happening? I don't know is the only answer I have for every question I have right now. Nothing makes sense right now. I'm about to make my way to the Joker when I'm ambushed by a laughing citizen from behind that grabs my shoulders with a grip so tight I think it'll leave a mark tomorrow. She's stripped to he underwear, too. I look around me and see people fiercely breaking their way out of cracks in the ground, laughing again. This is complete mayhem with no rhyme or reason. I try as hard as I can to fight the fear, but the impossible keeps happening. Zombified civilians waking from their slumber only to laugh themselves to death. The numbers keep rising. The woman holding me loses her grip and falls to the ground, and I see the next events up close. The woman laughs so hard she starts crying and her cheeks turn red after smiling so much, her body curled up in the fetal position, spazzing out every three seconds, and then the life is drained from her, spewing more green gas. Everyone breaking out of the ground. Everyone dying. Numbers rising even more. I clasp my mouth my hands, shaking my head and close my eyes, falling to my knees and crying at the unexplainable mayhem. I open my eyes to see one civilian breaking free from the underworld to meet up with the Joker. The civilian doesn't attack the clown; Joker gives him a crowbar as I hear him shouting. "Don't say I never gave you anything!"

He tilts his head backwards, chuckling his head off. Batman knocks him to the ground and I can see he's so tense his body is shaking, the clown enjoying every minute of the brutal beat down that follows. I'm not in as bad as shape as I thought I'd be, but emotionally and mentally is a different thing entirely. He outsmarted me and used a weapon that targets my psyche. But this affects Batman, too. No one is immune to this, except another heartless and calculating psychopath. Immune….

Joker is immune to the gas because he's already been induced to it, but how? Why? A civilian breaks free from his slumber beside me and I move away from him, trying to kick him back into his sleep. _I'm sorry! I'm sorry!_

I kick him enough times that I think he's going to be scarred for life. There's no sense in any of this anymore. I close my eyes and I keep kicking his face. I'm losing my mind, I can feel it. I try to forget about it all, blindly killing something that's already dead. _Just. Get. Out. Of. Here. _I keep kicking and kicking, looking away from what I'm doing. _Leave. Me. Alone._ After what feels like hours, I still feel like I'm bashing his face in and it takes Batman shaking me erratically to snap me to my senses. I look around me and find the place literality littered with bodies and the Joker lying flat on the ground with a Batarang in the chest; though, not all the way through. The man I was kicking has a blue bruise on his busted, runny, bloody nose. He was dying anyway…

Batman has a ventilated mask which is why he didn't get affected by the gas. "Don't take the cape off just yet."

Without thinking, I hug him as hard as I can, bawling like I've lost my mind, and I probably have. Bawling in a way I never have before. I release my grip on him and I try to stand; and as expected, my leg is so sore from exertion that I have to limp my way out of the Carnival. And as a switch of events, Batman takes one of my arms and carries me to his Batmobile in the passenger seat. At least I feel a little relieved. Batman settles me in and goes back to get the Joker, putting him in his trunk and sealing it tight enough to keep him in until he can send him to the police, I guess. But after this?

I remember the Batarang and I think our suits will be enough to get evidence of the gas, so I forget about it. Batman doesn't say much on the way to wherever we're going, and I don't expect him to. Silent types and all. It's only when we approach a dead end that a rock wall opens up, revealing another pathway with lights on the side of the road. I look in the rearview mirror and the rock closes back up. Am I going into the Batcave?

Something just occurred to me that I hadn't been going to the Gotham Press, since I died only a few days ago, I couldn't see why not. The pathway doesn't seem to end until we reach a waterfall, going through it and a turn is made, seeing the place where I first met Robin and see the Batcomputer. I _am_ in the Batcave. I guess what had happened earlier at the Carnival was enough to change his mind. Good. Because I would've been so pissed that I went through all that and got absolutely nothing from it. And I clearly wouldn't have snapped to my senses on my own if it weren't for Batman to help me out. And I don't expect Robin to see me as the same person after tonight. Speaking of which, here comes Robin from the shadows Batman came out last time when I was on that hospital bed. What's beyond there? If I'm supposed to feel even the slightest relief seeing Robin, I don't. But I'm sure somewhere, I do. Just not sure where right now. Batman reaches a stop to the pathway, which rotates to a position where Batman can get into the Batmobile the next time and go straight into action the next time he needs to, just in a different direction. The way we came in must be the entrance back to the Cave, the other out of it.

Batman gets out of the car and so do I, if you count limping and falling flat on my face getting out of the car. Robin looks startled at my torn up costume. He rushes to my aid as Batman heads straight to the shadows and not helping me. I'll never understand him. Damn it all. Robin rests a hand on my neck to steady me, holding my hand, asking me in a careful tone. "What happened to you?"

I try to build up the urge to speak; unfortunately, all that comes out are groans. "C'mon, I'll get you on the bed."

He does and I finally ask Robin in a traumatized and weak voice, a scratch in my voice. "Why do people do this?"

He sits in a chair next to me and, since I guess my senses are coming back, I see he's not in costume. He's wearing a black jacket, red dress shirt and black pants with black and white sneakers. He's just like anyone else. He answers in a confused tone. "What'd you mean?"

My traumatized and shattered mind only makes out these words. "Joker. Bombs. Gas-Induced Civilians. Laughing. Dying."

He looks extremely baffled. "It was _that_ bad?"

I say with a scratch in my voice. "…Yeah."

I take a deep breath and try to make an effort to speak a real sentence, still with a scratch in my voice. "Went…into a blind rage….started kicking someone in the nose."

"Limp?"

I shake my head yes. Batman appears out of nowhere and tells me in his Bruce Wayne voice with his cowl off, but his costume is still on. "I need you to come with me."

Robin helps me up and we follow Batman into the shadows. I pay attention to the steps Robin is taking since I'm going in blind and I can feel myself almost slipping as we apparently go up a slope. "Easy." Whispers Robin. I fail to see how Batman raised him. But I guess underneath all my anger and darkness, there's something inside him that shows he really does have a heart. We reach the end of the spiraling slope and I find myself on the back lawn of…Wayne Manor. But the one thing I notice are the tombstones. Batman's parents. I put my arm to my side and remove it from Robin's neck, trying to walk on my own to the tombstones. As I do, Batman tells me. "As you know, these are my parents' graves."

I flop down to my knees before the graves, and the gang joins me. Bruce continues in a heartfelt but heartbroken voice. "Every night, I come here and visit the place where it all began. Where I made the vow to avenge my parents' deaths, and honor their memories as I pursue a life of ridding this city of crime, vowing to never kill, and also vowing to never trust anyone until I know that I can, or until they prove themselves."

I look at him and it's like my mind slowly reshapes, slowly coming back together. I look at him as he looks down at the graves, his attention undisturbed. I listen intently, then I turn to Robin, who does the same. He must do what Batman does here, too. "I use this memorial as a reminder that even if my world crumbled before me, I can still be a force for good. I know this hasn't exactly been a pleasant endeavor for you; and in moments like these, you have to be broken to decide what kind of person you're going to be."

He looks at me with a look in his expression I never thought I'd see: Compassion. "So, will you make the vow?"

I never really expected this to happen. From fandom to reality to something deeper. I shake my head yes and he takes the cowl that he's been holding in his hands, placing them in mine, demanding. "Hold this, close your eyes, and repeat after me."

I look at the cowl staring back at me, and I close my eyes, waiting for him to speak.

"I vow, to become the influence that Gotham needs. Be the hero that preys on crime and be the hero that extends a hand to the fearful. I vow, to never kill. I vow, that in honor of these people, that I, too, will die someone who lived life to the fullest helping others. I am a force for good when no one realizes it. This is my vow. My goal. My whole-hearted purpose, for now and forever."

I repeat his words and he says four at a time so I don't lose track. After that, we get up and I hand Batman his cowl back, going through the shadows again. I guess Batman and Robin memorize how many steps they need to take or they're just that good at prowling around in the shadows. I use Robin for support again. I think of the shadows as going through a dark place in your life, and then you find solace in a place someone else did, carrying it on to someone else. Batman goes to display cases near the Batcomputer and consoles are planted before each of them, and there are three consoles with only two cases. The other's for me.

Robin heads somewhere and as we get closer to the case and Batman types in a code, the Display Case rises from the ground. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes. I know Batman means that someone needs to be broken in order to decide what kind of person they really need to be for the rest of their life. He must mean that you can decide to build yourself back together, or be shattered forever. If it weren't for Batman right now, I'd be a mindless, helpless, clueless little psychopath. But now, I'm Batgirl with an advanced black suit, a yellow Batsymbol on the chest, a scalloped design, yellow belt, bladed gauntlets, black and yellow cape and yellow boots. Now I have my own armor.

Robin comes back with a brace for my leg, I think. He hands me the brace for when I change into my suit, he informs me. It'll realign the bones in my leg. The Batsuit Is lightweight and still provides as much protection. Batman opens the case and I touch the suit for the first time, feeling how tough the material is, sliding my hands through the surface of the cowl and I remove it from the stand. I take mine off and drop it to the ground, holding my new one. I look at Bruce and question, flustered. "How'd you know?"

"I made it when you first encountered the Joker."

He must've seen something in me, or else he wouldn't have done this. I try on the cowl and it feels unlike anything I've ever worn before. Robin finishes the puzzle about how I'm going to try it on. "Go inside the display case and Batman will type in a code to descend you to your level where you can change."

Batman's thought of everything. I do and as the case descends into the depths of the cave, I find a changing area with white lighting complete with a mirror. An a chair next to the mirror. So I switch costumes and leave my old suit here, just for memory's sake as I carried my old cowl with me. I limp my way to the chair and put my brace on first. As I put it on, I scream as it realigns my right leg. When that's done, I head back to the Batsuit and try it on. I step back into the case and, which fortunately is big enough for a person to be in, I ascend back to the surface level. I walk out of the case and wearing this costume just feels…right. There's something about this suit that has a feeling my old suit couldn't. Robin smiles at me and remarks. "I like it."

For what seems like forever, I let out a smile and a balding, aging butler comes through an elevator that's just making its descent to our level. Robin points out. "Meet our butler, Alfred."

Must be Batman's pretend-father. He walks out of the elevator and speaks with a British accent. "I hope you know what exactly you've done, Master Wayne."

Bruce turns to him and replies. "I always do."

"After hearing about you making that suit, I was afraid you'd have to deal with a pretend-daughter. And of course, you did."

He gets closer to us and communicates in a softer tone than when he was yelling. He extends a hand to me as if to shake mine. "Nice to meet you. I didn't quite catch your name."

I shake his hand in response. "Ms. Gordon. Barbara Gordon."

I continue in a stronger voice. "Batgirl."

He smiles back, showing his white teeth. I feel welcomed. And then Alfred says something seals the moment. "Welcome to the Batfamily."

I feel renewed. And in this moment, I realize that this isn't over. Here is where it all begins. Here is where I can start to really make a difference. Bruce turns to me and reminds me. "Your training starts here tomorrow at 12:00PM."

He turns around and goes to a part of the surface that slides open the rock in front of him and like a conveyer belt, my black and yellow, two-wheeled bike rides out from the rock and I'm blown away. My Batsymbol in the center of the wheels, as well. I walk closer to the bike and get on it, feeling the padding on the seat and it feels comfortable. Good. Because I won't enjoy myself riding around in this if I don't feel right in this. Bruce tells me as I sit on the bike. "The battle controls are activated by voice command."

"Got it." I reply.

Alfred is busy talking to Robin, and I find out his real name is Dick Grayson. "I'm going to analyze my suit and see if I can find anything about that gas we were subjected to earlier tonight." Bruce informs me. Alfred comes my way as I'm revving the engines on my new bike, implying to me. "Is there anything you need, Ms. Gordon?"

"No thanks."

"As you were. Just drive up to the platform the Batmobile is on and drive slowly until you get used to the pathway into the world. But make sure to give it some momentum when you go up that hill because we are beneath the surface."

I shake my head in agreement. But then he questions me. "Have you ever driven a motorcycle?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I've driven a car if that counts."

"For the most part." He jokes. The platform the Batmobile is on is large enough to hold my Batcycle. The platform revolves and it points to a wall that opens up, revealing a pathway layered with lights on the sides. I go slowly and drive through the opening as I hear it close behind me. I drive upwards and make sure to gain momentum like Alfred suggested. It seems pretty easy since I'm just going in a large circle, and go faster. The usual occurs again. Wall opens and closes when I reach the surface, and I speed up, feeling the power and laughing at how I ever managed a Grapnel Gun or ever made it with a car. I imagine the Joker was knocked out to an extent where he's still asleep, even hours after the battle. He may wake up soon inside Arkham Asylum anyways. This time, I hope they construct a more fortified cell. Only time will tell.

But for now, I'll focus what else is in store for me now. That man I saw bursting into flames. Possible return of the Joker. And I know for sure that there will be more threats to come than just those two. But now, I'm going to be trained by Batman. This time, I'm not alone, and this is where I begin.


	4. Battling the Mystery Man

"Concentrate. Watch your opponent." Spits Bruce. He's in workout clothes, as am I, in the Training Area of the Batcave; a section below the one that holds the Batmobile, like a sublevel. I wipe the sweat from my brow. After thirty minutes of combat training, I've worked up a sweat whereas I've yet to see Bruce sweat once. Maybe it's because he's not trying as hard, or that he's used to this. Alfred and Dick are watching from the sidelines, commenting on the fight. I put my fists back up and Bruce is still as a rock, waiting for my next move. I try to jab him in the gut, he blocks it and grabs my fist, jerking it away and is inches away from hitting me in the nose as what could really happen. I remember what he told me about not stopping in the middle of the fight and I duck the next attack, which is a kick over my head and I grab the leg, pretending to hit it and then he turns it on me with a drop kick in the stomach, making me release his leg and he jumps himself back onto the ground. He hits like a truck…

I put my hand on my stomach, trying to regain my breath and I look at him confusingly. "What the hell was that?"

"You'll never know what your opponent may do in the middle of a fight. Focus."

Sweat builds up again and I call time to get my second battle of water which is almost gone. I don't know how he does this. I chug it down and come out gasping for air, resting my arms on a nearby railing, trying to catch my breath. Bruce says the training is over for today and I collapse to the mat. I feel like I've been flattened by a steamroller. Dick rests beside me and tells me something pertaining to the training. "Think that's bad, wait until you finish this stage and you'll have to endure the real punches."

"Wonderful." I remark sarcastically.

"And then there's the Weapons Training. Trust me, there's a lot to do. But you'll get in the groove of things and it'll at least get easier, somewhat."

Of course it will. But now that I know there's a second stage of Combat Training, I feel relieved about now. Though; still, it's exhausting and rigorous. Three days so far, and it's taken some adjusting. I ask Alfred. "What does Bruce do in his free time?"

Alfred replies. "He spends his days as a billionaire philanthropist by day, and a brooding vigilante by night. He refuses to pursue a life outside of the Batman because he doesn't trust anyone. So, in a way, he's afraid of losing anyone else. But if it's any constellation, he trusted you two enough that you both could help him in his life as ensuring justice in Gotham."

This gives me a new perspective on Bruce. He does have the capability of being afraid, and he's really good at hiding it. Later that night at home, I'm in deep sleep in my bedroom, and I hear chatter starting on the police band with a police officer reporting about a dead body at the top floor of the Gotham Life Building. Bullet wound to the head. No further causalities reported so far, witnesses have no idea how this happened. I usually have the police band on loud enough to a point where it can wake me up if I need it to. I feel this is more of a job for Batman since I just feel like sleeping. I return to my world of sleep and the police band goes off again reporting about another crime scene involving a gunned down civilian, three more go off, and then six. Eleven Reported Cases about the same thing in under five minutes. Officers are going to be busy tonight. But how? And why? How did the shooter do this? He couldn't have been everywhere at once. Unless the guns were and they were on timers or something like that. I reach for my phone and I call Batman since he has a communicator in his cowl. Bruce walked me through the functions of each Batsuit. "What is it?" Barks back Bruce.

"You know the shooter has to have the guns on timers, right?"

"I know. But we still need to find out the who and why and where he's operating them from."

That'll be a difficult and painstaking goal considering the shooter will either be at one of the places one of the guns were, or nowhere at all. And according to the police band, the guns were all positioned in different places at the same time, and out of sight. I decide to get to the garage, whip out my Batcycle, and rush to the Batcave to suit up; attempting to help out at one of the reported locations. One of them is near Gotham Press, so I head there. It takes some time to get to the Batcave, suit up, and speed my way to Gotham Press; and when I get there, I see police officers are already trying to find out what happened. I remember his face. It was my boss. What could he have done wrong? I'll have to investigate myself after this.

The police catch sight of me and they tell me not to cross the police line. An officer looks at me and points out. "Hey, she works with Batman. See the costume? The Bat ears?"

The other officer scratches his head and apologizes. "Uh, sorry bout that."

I get under the line and get closer to the body, kneeling down beside it. I tap my Batsymbol and enter what's called: Detective Mode. A very useful feature. Branden, my late boss, has his body turned into a blue skeletal structure with the mode. It also turns the environment around me into a blue world where I can know more about something than I had previously thought. Brenden hasn't experienced any minor or major bodily harm, just to make sure. I look for the trajectory of the shot and it ricocheted off a building. I turn to the officers. "I'm going to investigate the trajectory of the shot."

One tips their hat to me and I'm on my way. I think to myself, "Bat Mode," and my cape splits into batwings, and I fly my way to the gun. The gun is in a building three football fields away from the crime scene. The window is open. The recoil must've knocked it back. The bullet burst through a glass wall of a building, bounced off two buildings, ricocheted off a car door, bounced off the edge of a fence grate, and into Brenden's brain. The fact that the shooter knew exactly where to position the gun, what time Brenden would be out, and how he could place the gun at just the right angle to bounce off the edge of a fence grate is something I can't wrap my head around.

The shooter must've had special sniper goggles. And also might've had someone tell him where Brenden would be. Batman contacts me. "Who's your victim?"

"Brenden Hacth, Head of Gotham Press. Why?"

"I'm making a list of the victims."

I'm surprised at his dedication. But we do need something to work with. "How many have you found?" I ask.

"Two."

"Keep going, or stop here?" I ask.

Batman answers. "I'll keep searching."

I'm lucky that something good happens, so I take advantage of it. I get back to my Batcycle and ride to the Batcave. I head to the Batcomputer to do some research since it's better than my computer. Robin comes walking by and sees me typing like a madman, looking for answers. He comments. "Fast typer."

I smile and remark. "Yeah."

I look at him, humorously. "Y'know, I've yet to see you do anything other than roam around here all the time."

He chuckles as he cracks his knuckles. "Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe," I smirk with my back facing him, and then I get out of my chair, popping my neck. Dick chuckles again and he lifts a leg to my face, trying to kick me as I block his leg, kicking his gut and Dick ducks it. This action is followed by him hand standing, wrapping his legs around my throat and throwing me forward. I regain my balance and he's up on his feet in no time, lunging towards me. I flop down to my back and kick him backwards. He's fast on his feet. I'll give him that. Faster than I am.

He delivers a flurry of punches and swings one to my gut, and as I lurch forward, he front flips over me and kicks me in the back, knocking me back. I try to backhand him, blocks it, and palm strikes my face, only coming inches from hitting it. I gasp; feeling the sensation of amazement for someone so acrobatic and so skilled. I can't breathe because I'm blown away. He laughs again and compliments. "You're good."

He removes the hand from my face and I catch my breath, like he has holding my throat. I compliment him back. "Thanks. You too."

We stare into each other's eyes and for a second, I feel myself magnetizing towards him; gravitating closer. And then our lips kiss. Five pleasure filled seconds. When we move away, we look away, and not at each other. He apologizes and I fix up the apology. "No need to be."

Even after a five second kiss, I feel tingles all through my body. What would happen if it was longer? I can see him thinking the same thing; and as an expected turn of events, we don't do it. He questions. "So, what've you been up to?"

I reply back in a satisfied tone. "Hunting down a expert sniper."

"What kind of expert sniper?"

I swallow hard, trying to fight the urge to experiment; just maybe, a minute kiss, no less. I close my eyes tightly. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

He exhales deeply, frowning, and remarks. "Well, that must be a really bad-"

Before he can finish, I contact my lips with his, kissing for who knows how long; he doesn't reject it either. He's doing it, too. Tingles surging through me like a power line, and as the seconds pass, I feel myself unable to move away from him. My Batsuit clinging to his jacket. I stopped counting the time at ten. When we do move away, we're gasping for air, laughing at the whole thing. And I didn't realize it until now that we ended up on the ground, side-by-side. "Wow." I comment jubilantly. Dick is still trying to catch his breath, with me joking. "Now who's catching their breath?"

Dick looks at me, competitively. "Easy, Babs."

My own little nickname. I like it. We try and get back up, and then the Batcomputer goes dark. It's him again. Should've kissed afterwards. The embers take their course and then something different happens, glowing white eyes appear on the screen accompanying the lonely embers. The subtitles are on the screen like last time. "So, how much is one life worth? Life of a single man who refuses to tell me what I need to know."

It occurs I haven't seen my dad since he found out I was Batgirl. No doubt that was a difficult day for me. And I think I know who the man is. My father. "How many lives have to be destroyed in order to rescue another? Life in Gotham City isn't child's play. And yet, we're dancing on top of the bodies that have been dedicated to protect this city; our bloody feet stepping on their rotten, corrupted intestines, and we won't stop there."

Dick and I exchange worried looks and then, even if we know we shouldn't, we look back at the screen. Dick holds my hand. "Nothing is what it was before. The day the Wayne Family was murdered marked the Rise of Crime and the Fall of this Once Great City."

That must be why he painted that chalk image in the alley. I keep looking at the screen and point out to Dick. "What if the Chalk Images are just symbols of where Gotham has fallen the most?"

"Maybe."

The man continues speaking. "There's a reason for all the organized and disorganized crime. To get rich, for revenge. But psychopaths like the Joker are examples that this city is going to Hell, and he's the Devil with the Pitchfork, burning everything in his path. And then there's the Head of the GCPD."

I let go of Dick's hand, swiftly rise to my feet; tingles replaced by boiling anger. "The Police Force isn't as corrupt as it used to be, but there are always a corrupt few, pathetic enough to be bought into Falcone's pocket. And what does James Gordon do about it? Go home and watch the News, stuff himself with donuts, and hope to himself that this city will get better on its own."

I walk closer to the Batcomputer, clenching my fists and Dick tries to encourage me, but I don't hear him. "He's as responsible as the Batman, but at least he gets the work done. And what happens then? He makes everything worse."

I get closer, closer; he keeps going, driving me closer to losing my mind again. I'm trying to keep it inside. To stay as calm as I can. But it's reaching its Breaking Point. "To whom it may concern: I'm at the Gotham Docks. Where the Commissioner goes down like the rest of us."

The Batcomputer turns back to its Original Screen and I feel something tugging on my arm, I keep tugging it away and it keeps grabbing me. I turn around and find it was Dick. I try to snap to my senses and he shouts at me. "You can't go in alone!"

I'm shouting too, now; but mine makes an echo. "I'm not going to let him get away with verbally assaulting my father, and I'm not going to let him drown him! Don't you get it? I HAVE to get out there, and I WILL get him out of there!"

I jerk my arm away again, and as I get on my Batcycle, Dick informs me in an obviously hurt voice that I might still be able to sense some compassion in there if I weren't so steamed. Since, anyways, I don't know how to deal with anger yet. It'd be a good thing right now. "Fine. Then I'm coming with you."

He heads to the Display Case and goes underground to change, in the meantime, I went to the Training Area to punch the Punching Bag while I waited. By the time I'm done, at least fourteen percent of my anger has faded, but I still have a long way to go. Dick appears behind me, apparently hearing my grunts. I see his costume up close, and see it's a darker red than I had thought, and his gloves are tech gauntlets, as well. With a green shade, as are his boots. It's like a re-color of Batman's Batsuit, kinda. He opens one of his clasps in his belt and what I thought was a little metal stick expands into a staff. "So, are we ready?"

We exit the Batcave and drive to the Pier. No doubt Batman won't approve of this; I bet Dick gets bored of sitting around in the Manor or the Cave all day, doing schoolwork. Unless he likes it. Robin's Cycle has a side view of a Robin in flight in the center of his wheels, and red and green seat and handlebars. As well as a helmet. We don't say much along the way there. Either Dick is focusing, or he's just thinking of what to do once we get there. I break the silence through the comms in our masks. "Dick. I know this isn't the time, but how do you deal with your pain?"

He takes a moment to answer. "It's what Batman's been trying to teach you."

I reply, extremely puzzled. "What?"

"The point of the training is that you need to not let anger get the best of you; you just need to remember to breathe, keep your eye on the target at all times, and play it smart. You won't be able to do much if you're blinded by your rage."

He does have a point. Focusing on what's important and ignoring what isn't is what I haven't been doing. What's not important involves my anger. My memories of the Carnival Nightmare. But I guess it's okay to remember it every now and then to give us a reminder of what not to do. I can't be weak anymore. Because sooner or later, someone's going to take advantage of it. I have to be strong. I have to focus. Concentrate. We reach the Pier and turn off our cycles, walking the way on foot. Robin and I stay close together, watching each other's backs and keeping our voices to a whisper. I turn on my Detective Mode and look for what might be a group of people standing near the edge of the Pier. I find a speck and I whisper to Robin. "Follow me."

We make our way to them, using the vast amount of storage containers to our use. I hear a voice. Like the one I heard on the Batcomputer. And at home on my computer. It's him. I inform Dick and he acknowledges with a shake of his head. He gets out his staff and instead of it popping out, he slowly slides it open with a mechanism in the Staff, used for Prowling Encounters, I guess. It does help, though. I hide behind a container, peeking over the side to see the action. I'm too far away from them. Which is a good thing. They can't see me; luckily, I can only get a glimpse of them almost. I get out one of my Smoke Pellets and look to Dick for confirmation, assuming he knows what to do. Throw the smoke. We leap into action. When we do, we manage to take out some of the bodyguards blocking our way to the Man in Charge. When the smoke clears, we see he's not fazed by the events that just perspired. I remember what Bruce has told me. To Concentrate. To watch the opponent. Robin takes care of the rest with swift swings of his Staff, and I take care of the one responsible for this. He announces to me. "Going against the law isn't child's play. You should go back home and knit yourself some sweaters for the coming Winter, while you still have the chance."

I refuse. It also occurs to me that his name is obviously Child's Play, considering how many times he says it, and how many references he makes to child's play. All the things a child shouldn't do, he does. I shout back in disagreement. "Maybe you should've never started this in the first place."

He lets out a brief chuckle and swings at me. He's fast, that's for sure. Maybe a little too fast. And he hits just as hard as he moves. Fast and painful. I manage to try and, at least, keep watch on him and not lose focus. But he's moving too fast for me to process. He doesn't do a lot of Martial Arts, more like Street Fighting with Martial Arts mixed in. I manage to get some punches in to his ribs, his sternum, and side stepping out of the way of a punch to kick his left thigh. After enduring serious damage, I tell myself I have his combat methods memorized; and just to keep things safe, I wouldn't admit it out loud just yet. Even more so especially when he's right in front of me. I put my hands up when I can, dodge and weave, and deliver some punishing blows to his helmet. I didn't leave a dent, but with enough force and enough damage, I can. He swift kicks me to the gut and grabs my head, jerking it forward to his knee so he can bash my face in. This catches me off guard with the knee to the face, and I'm left open for some punches in the face, followed by a cross to the cheek hard enough to spew blood out of my mouth; next, he lifts his leg up to kick me in the throat. I try to regain my balance, to gather up my focus again. I look behind me and I'm running out of room; this is the end of the walkway. My dad is on another platform and Robin is escorting him to safety now. Good.

I take the gap I have to take some breaths and concentrate, even if the one thing I want to do right now is bust open that helmet right now and find out who exactly is underneath that armor. But I fight the urge to resort to a fit of rage. Being smart is my best weapon right now. And if it weren't for this suit, I'd be dead by now. It's pretty much shock absorbent and resists only a certain amount of joules. A certain number of joules is required to inflict damage on the advanced Kevlar, and to keep using that force could be tiring after a while. But anything above it could be another story. I wipe away the blood from my nose, and my lip, clenching my fists again and standing tall, putting my fists up. Child's Play laughs at me, exclaiming. "Is this the Fall of Batgirl?"

"No, not yet."

He jabs me in the ribs twice and I grab his fist, side-stepping behind him and bringing my elbow up, and slamming it down on his shoulder as hard as I possibly can. I can hear him grunt, but he's still moving his arm. He makes the faint sound of a grunt every time he moves that arm, and now I know the amount of force it'll take to penetrate his armor. To at least make a dent in it, or cause more damage than I have been. He seems to be hitting harder now. I can feel it. I take the fight the opposite way, away from the edge of the platform. I cross his throat, dodging the next attack and elbow him in the chest. Duck. Lift my leg up to damage the shoulder I last damaged, hurting it even more. Child's Play lets out a louder grunt and puts his arm on his shoulder, looking at me with, if it weren't for the helmet, cold eyes. I use this to my advantage and swift kick him in the knee, rising my knee upwards, bashing his chest twice and do a third one to attempt to break his helmet. With all the strength I can summon up, with every inch of my being, as hard as I humanly can, I _break _his helmet; to my dismay, though I probably knew this, I'm pretty sure I just shattered my kneecap. I get a glimpse of his face, but he covers his face with his hand and backhands me onto the ground. I didn't get enough of a look at his face, and I shattered my kneecap for nothing. Fortunately, he knows I'm a threat. He knows he can beaten. No doubt he'll try to step up his game like I've done recently.

Batman trained me well. I take five seconds to revel in my victory and go back to the Batcycle, limping, watching Child's Play swim away. Robin makes his way to me and he helps me to the cycle. I see police cars in the distance, Robin must've taken my father there. Robin frowns at my limp. "What happened?"

"I busted his helmet."

He pats me on the back. "Good work. Did you find out who it was underneath?"

"I didn't."

He decides the current way of helping me along isn't enough, so he lifts me up and carries me in his arms like a baby. "Best not to put pressure on that leg."

I tilt my head back, laughing. I look at him, confused on one thing that's bothering me. "How am I going to drive home? Suck it up?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Don't have much of a choice."

I look in his eyes, passionately, exchanging a kiss. I'll dread the day he's gone, but for now, I let the tingles run through my body. We get back to the cave and see Batman at the Batcomputer, turning around when he hears the sound of our cycles coming through. He glares at us, at my limp. He demands in a terrifying voice. "Where the hell have you two been?"

I look at Robin and then I look at Batman, answering. "I stopped Child's Play for now and Robin escorted my dad to the police."

He takes a moment to dwell on this, slowly rises from his chair and says something I thought I'd never hear from him in years. "Good work."

Robin and I both let out a sigh of relief. "In other news,"

Batman steps closer to us, and then stops, announcing. "I've solved the Carnival Nightmare Case."


	5. Doubtful

"The victims of the Carnival Nightmare were Gotham University students. There was a Football Rally for a coming game that month; it occurred in the Gymnasium where the Joker disguised himself as a former student. Most likely he used makeup to get rid of his bleached skin.

He pauses for a second, then finishes. "There was also a dance where all the lights were turned off, leaving only the party lights active. It wasn't dark enough not to be seen, but the Joker made an effort of dropping knockout gas into the punch and stuffing it in as much of the food as possible, at the best opportunity he had when no one was watching him. When everyone was knocked out, they were stripped to their underwear and stuffed in Joker Vans."

Dick and I look at each other in fear, while trying to wrap my head around this. He actually had time to wait until everyone was knocked out? Must explain how one group awoke before the others. Batman continues. "We're not finished yet. He implanted devices inside each and every student he infected, including the staff. The devices housed samples of the Joker Toxin, all set on specific timers based on how long the person would be knocked out, and when they woke back up. He scattered the bodies around the Carnival tents and dug up makeshift graves out of the fairgrounds, stuffing people inside them when he ran out of tents. The ones that were buried experienced a hysteria of terror when realizing they had been buried alive."

The extent of the Joker's ploy is both sadistic and boundless. Something tells me this isn't over yet, though. "The people buried broke out of the makeshift graves; at which point, Joker left just enough possibility of liberating themselves. They were all implanted with a Toxin Device, and a Carbon Dioxide Capsule lodged in their intestines. After exposure to enough CO2, the Capsule sent a shock to the Toxin Device, powering up its circuits and subjecting the host to the Toxin."

I'm afraid to ask, but I do. "What about the fumes the people released after they died?"

He looks at me, answering in a slower tone. "That was more difficult to decide."

He takes a breath, answering. "There was a mechanism in the Toxin that acted as a Vitals Monitor. When the Vitals flat-lined, that was when the mechanism inside the Toxin released itself."

Vital Monitoring? With the Joker? This is too complex, even for him. But his mind is hellbent on violence and chaos, and his mind is boundless. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be thinking about keeping up with someone's vitals when he's gutting them. This whole idea floors me in a bad way; knowing someone's out there that can think of this. First Gotham Press, then Gotham University. What next? "What about the bombs?" I question. Batman replies. "Distraction."

Dick declares, I can sense what I'm thinking in his voice. Possibility of a psychopath with a limitless imagination, always thinking of what to do to someone, or to more than one person. And they put him in Arkham Asylum? "There's gotta be someone he's working with to make that Toxin so complex."

Batman performs as expected; sadly, reaches a bump in the road. "I've been working every second I can on this case, whether it be my Batsuit or a uniform built for the toxin, or here in the Cave, and I'm doing everything I can to find the answers I'm looking for. Next on my list are the Sniper Targets."

He gets to arms reach of us, telling us in the most authoritative and in the darkest voice I've heard him speak. "On my parents' graves, swear to me that you'll leave the Joker to me. The more I learn about the Joker, the more I'm reminded that this is my fight. Not any of yours. Understand?"

I know he cares for us; just that, he's so scary about it. It's the point, anyways. It gets our attention. We shake our heads in agreement as Batman offers more advice. "If you encounter him, do not engage, under any circumstances. Ignore him. Run away. He'll kill you before you realize it. He'll find a way past your suits one way or another. Whether it be emotionally, mentally, or by the off chance he knows how to penetrate your suit."

He heads back to the Batcomputer, leaving the conversation at that. Dick and I give each other looks, agreeing that we value our lives enough not to waste time on a madman with no rhyme or reason. Dick heads above ground to Wayne Manor and I head to the Infirmary part of the Cave, connected to the Training Area. I limp my way there and grab one of the exoskeleton straps I've been wearing on my other leg. I head to my Display Case and Batman hears my occasional grunts when I get closer to my case. Which is close to the Batcomputer. "What'd you do?"

He turns to me, frowning at my other limp. "I shattered Child's Play's helmet."

His expression doesn't change, but his voice does. "Child's Play?"  
>"The man who's been bypassing the media airwaves and hacking technology throughout Gotham."<p>

I assume that's information for him. I'm sure it is. And I'm right. "Did you see his face?"

I shake my head no. "Did you get a glimpse?"

I shake my head yes. "What's the slightest bit of detail you can recall?"

I know he could help; to my consternation, the glimpse I had wasn't enough for this situation. "It wasn't that good of a glimpse. When I busted his helmet, he swam away."

He examines me closely, then minutes pass before he says something "Next time he makes an appearance, I'll track down his whereabouts."

I smile, knowing he's willing to help. We spend a few seconds looking at each other, then we go back to our routine. I change out of my leggings as I sit in a chair next to the mirror, removing the last strap I had on my leg, putting the new one on my knee. I scream as it tightens around my knee, holding the ligaments together. I grab part of my cape, roll it up in a ball and bite into it. When the strap is on, it makes a sound like door is closing out all remnants of oxygen. I stand on my bad leg, no problems. I look at myself in the mirror, remembering how things were before. How things were different. I think to myself, _Things get worse before you realize how bad your situation is. Things only get worse before they get better. Part of life._  
>I stand up and take off my uniform, changing back into my original clothes I had thrown into a pile at the end of the room. I walk out of the case and Batman is still working researching on the accomplice of the Joker. I get back to the Training Area and do some combat training against an almost metallic dummy on display for what feels like hours. It may be hours into the training by now. I don't care. I feel at home doing this. Training for whatever situation may arise that calls for hand-to-hand resolutions. I switch it up, swinging kicks and mixing it up with the combat.<br>After I feel like I'm done, my body is sore after the intense exertion. And as a side note, my feet are bleeding from the extended time of standing up. At least, I feel like they do. I rest my forehead on the dummy's chest, panting. I had to stop every now and then to get some water bottles that were nearby. Probably Robin's water bottles considering how much Batman eats or drinks something. There are an insurmountable amount of water bottles in the fridge, so two won't mean that much of a difference.

As I take a reprieve, I can still hear Batman typing away on the computer. I head to the Computer and ask Batman on his progress. "Nothing yet."

He responds as he continues looking at the screen. But after a couple of seconds, he demands. "I have to go to Arkham."

"Why?"

At first I don't know why, and then I remember he's looking for who the Joker is working for. And he's going to interrogate him in person, finding out the answers himself. I pat his back for good luck, planting a tiny tracker on his cape so I can listen in on the interrogation. Batman doesn't know I made it. Yet.

I don't make a lot of gadgets; though, when I do, I make sure they're useful in some way. And of course, he tells me to stay here, which is why I planted that tracker. He drives away into the Batmobile, and once he's gone, I make my way to the Batcomputer, activating the tracker beforehand. I patiently wait for Batman to reach Arkham, and when he does, he wastes no time getting to the Joker's cell. As Batman enters the Asylum, I hear the distinct sound of laughter in the background. Not many people say anything to Batman, apparently adapting to the theory that he's not going to talk to them. Because he's busy. The laughter gets closer, Batman's vitals are about to go off the charts, according to the Vitals Monitor on the screen. I hear a door opening and closes, and the Joker greets Batman. "So, miss me so much you decided to visit me in my old stomping grounds?"

Batman retorts angrily. "No. I need to know who you're working with."

He laughs before he comments. "Working with? Oh Bats, that was a good one. C'mon, tell me something else."

His vitals rise and he tries to stay calm. "Your Toxin possessed qualities too complex to be your own."

The clown questions again. "Complex?"

"Vital Monitors. What does that register?"

A silence falls in the room before Joker breaks the silence after grueling minutes of waiting. "I've no clue what you're even talking about."

I hear something get knocked over, and a laughing clown over the audio, along with a Batman that's now screaming. His vitals aren't healthy. "Don't you dare lie to me! You're the only one with the Toxin."

I hear the sound of something breaking, Batman continues. "There's no one else that can have access to the Toxin."

I hear something hitting against something metal, at least twice, before Batman screams again over the laughing that never stops. "Who are you working with?! Answer me!"

The laughing continues and Batman's vitals keep skyrocketing to the point where a normal person should've died already. This scares me. I contact Batman over the comms, me shouting too, in this moment of duress. "BATMAN! CALM DOWN!"

He ignores me and the Joker interrupts his own laughing to speak. "No, seriously. I had mistaken this for a date with my bestest pal in the world!"

I hear people and the door opening again, people shouting over the mayhem, most likely the guards. They're trying to settle down the situation as I hear grunts and screams, like someone's being attacked. I'm really glad I didn't go now, and at the same time, afraid for Batman. He's not handling the Joker Ploys that well. I hear more mayhem escalate, sound of an electric shock. Stun Batons. The vitals are like a Richter Scale measuring an Earthquake capable of destroying entire cities. Terror. Worried. Helpless. These are the emotions I feel right now. I keep calling Batman to focus, to remember why he's here. I hear something hit against metal again, and guards shouting for all of this to stop. In a sensation of intense concern and sheer terror, I rise up from my chair, smash the voice-over-comms button with my hand, scream as loud and as fierce as I can: A voice that scares me, when it's my own voice. "BATMAN! REMEMBER YOUR PARENTS!"

After saying that, I feel as if I'm hoarse; I end up coughing following that. So my voice is still here, almost. Fortunately I do better after that. I've been holding it in for God knows how long. That, and with all the screaming I was doing wasn't helping my voice, anyhow. It gets quieter; the laughter doesn't. I hear footsteps and a door closing. He left without any answers. In the distance, I hear the Joker yelling. "Let's make plans for another date. Se ya soon, Batsy!"

A psychopath dating a brooding vigilante. Only Joker would think of something like this. The madness is over. For now. I sit down into my chair, resting my arms on the computer, letting my head drop on top of them. Right now, I'm remembering exactly why I had to stay away from him. Remembering what it's like to witness the hysteria of terror. To know how helpless you are in a moment you're needed the most. Something also hits me, harder than Batman. He dedicates his life to stopping madmen and criminals who wouldn't give a damn about a man who's pretty much lost everything, couldn't care less about anything else, and his only escape is beating criminals to a pulp. And the thanks he gets for protecting this city is watching more people die on or off his watch. I'd scream if my voice wasn't so weak, and there are no tears to be shed anymore. I feel like I've dried up all of those. It doesn't matter anymore.

I feel almost as if my humanity is slipping away being on this job. I should never have planted that tracker. I hear the Batmobile drive to a stop in the cave and the door slamming shut. Batman doesn't argue with me, but I ask him in a strict, weak, frightened voice. "What happened in there?"

Batman looks at me with eyes colder than the Arctic, and his voice is just as cold. "I tried to beat the answer out of him, and it got out of hand. The guards tried to break up the fight, and the Joker assaulted the guards, seeing it as a chance to run rampant in his own prison cell. I tried to stop him and I couldn't."

I look at the floor, frowning. "I watched as the guards were slowly beaten to death as the Joker broke out of his straightjacket." Batman adds. I'd offer a word of comfort; regrettably, I have none. Also, the fact that he can break out of a straightjacket just adds to the reason to kill him. My blood boils inside of me and I quietly remark. "You should've killed him."

"What?" Batman questions. I look up at him with a chilling gaze. "This is too much for anyone. Just get it over with."

"What did you tell me over the comms?"

I remember, and I don't care. It was an outburst in distress. It doesn't matter. "And what about that vow?"

It begins to sink in. I feel sorry for myself, though I don't cry. I try and get out of my chair, to make way to the place where I first made my vow to at least find something to help me through this. As I get out of my chair, I collapse to the ground. Either from training so hard, or from being drained emotionally. Batman helps me up and I feel a little better. I tell him I can make it there on my own. I'm reminded of how my life was before this, how I wish things were in reverse now. How three months being Batgirl feels like it's wasted now.

I remember Allan. My father. Me not being afraid of smiles. Being carefree. Not worrying about people threatening to kill me. How I would hangout with my friends. I've been through more than any teenager should go through, and I'm still going, somehow. And I'm only seventeen. It must be the romance between me and Robin that drives me. Or I'm stronger than I thought. I make my way to the tombstones and I kneel before them. Pouring out my heart in a broken tone. "I've failed you both."

I take a deep breath, wiping my flowing hair out of my face, adrift in the windy night. Leaves passing by without a care. "I wanted to help you, and I dishonored you wanting to kill someone. I don't deserve to be apart of this family."

I feel myself breaking even more inside, slowly. I keep going. "I'm not like Robin, and I'm not like Batman. I never will be."

I feel the relief and defeat one feels when a tear comes on, but none of them come. "I'm nothing. And I'm sorry. I've failed you."

A tear creeps out of my eye, and I let it fall, wetting my cheek. " I know you're in there, laughing at me. Laughing at my failure. I can't survive in Gotham as who I am."

Another tear falls down and I sniff, trying to tell myself to breathe as the tears begin to shatter me into a million pieces. My grip on this world begins to falter. "I'm sorry I'm weak. I'm sorry that I can't go on like everyone else. I'm sorry that I'm breaking, there's nothing I can do to stop it."

Three more tears stream down both eyes, me trying to breathe, and me continuing as the words begin to get harder to say. "You don't realize…how hard…this is…for me. Pouring out my flaws…to…to people who had none."

More tears start falling down as the wind begins to grow colder, colder still; freezing me to the core like this frigid, unforgiving world I know. "I know you can hear me. I know you can see me…falling apart."

I hear the whistle of the wind, somewhat insulating that they can hear me. Nonetheless, I get even colder. "You can hear me."

I cry tears of joy and tears of pain. I don't know which one is real. But it doesn't matter. I keep going. "I'd like to believe…that everything would be…fine."

I sniff again and I summon up the strength to continue. "That my life will restart after tonight. That, by some miraculous event, I'll be okay."

The tears start to fall down like a waterfall, my words almost unpronounceable, and my breath faltering because the pain is too much. I keep allowing the tears to fall, soaking my cheeks. "I know…you can hear me, and I know you care. But I will never,"

My anger turns to that of absolute irritation, gritting my teeth tightly and finishing my next words without remorse. "Never, ever, be strong enough to be able to deal with my pain. And no matter how hard I try,

My eyes reflect the inflammability of my anger inside me, concluding my last statement. "I can't be good enough."

I start shouting at them now, releasing all my anger at the dead who I doubt that they can hear me, or that they can care. "That vow…was supposed to help me. That vow was supposed to be a new start. What am I supposed to do!?"

I pound the ground with my fist as hard as I can, screaming at the bodies of the people that were supposed to help me. As I do, goose bumps engulf my entire body because I'm so cold. The wind making it worse. "WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO!?"

I switch to being on one knee to being on my knees, screaming at the tombstones and making myself even more hoarse. And as I shatter before no one's eyes but the dead's, a warm breeze sweeps by, defrosting my cold world, swinging my hair the other way, wiping away my river of tears. My breath is taken away and I feel stronger than I've ever been. I feel something I thought I'd never feel in the midst of all I've been through: Hope. I knew they could hear me; I was doubtful at first. I try to breathe again, and as I inhale, I feel like I've allowed some spirit access inside of my body, purifying me. And as I exhale, I feel like I see the world in a whole new way. I smile of hope. A smile of relief that I can be stronger because of this. I feel…renewed.

The wind stops completely, as if by some celestial force. All it took was one breeze to defrost my dying, bitter heart. One breeze to give me a new look on life, to show me the world hadn't ended. Things may be different from here; the people who I hated won't, and neither will the ones I care for and love. And now I know that this place will be my place of refuge. The one place I can trust when everything else fails.

I stand up stronger and prouder than never before. I feel the warm breeze again and I let it blow through me again. I look down at the tombstones and I respectfully tell them thank you, in any way I can, and go on my way back to the Batcave, where my suit may be waiting for it's next mission.


End file.
